


Vaulted Dome

by okoomi



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Existential Crisis, Gen, God really needs a cell phone, Humanity and Divinity don't mix, Original Character(s), Pre-Series, featuring: an incredibly vague time and setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 09:42:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15531525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okoomi/pseuds/okoomi
Summary: My own stab at Azrael from the TV Show Lucifer, set long before the series begins (and before I saw Boo Normal). She will be there in the end to take you home, be it Heaven or Hell. You will not realize it until its too late. Be still. Death is a certainty but Azrael is a blessing.





	Vaulted Dome

**Author's Note:**

> this is a short ficlet i couldn't get out of my head. there will probably be a least one more chapter. i kind of want to make a series out of this bc i have a lot of ideas but for now ill set this up as the groundwork if not just a standalone thing. just really needed to get this written. it's focused on my own take of Azrael, and any angelic siblings that may pop up will prolly be brief. i name-dropped Uriel in this chapter, but don't hold your breath.
> 
> the title is a reference to the poem Luceafarul (Lucifer) by Mihai Eminescu. i recommend the English translation by Corneliu M. Popescu, as i personally think its the best and i use his specific translation of the word "cerul" or sky in Romanian.
> 
> tw: brief body gore, descriptions of blood and destruction, child death

She raised her hand towards the sun, eyes narrowing in the shade of her palm. The blinding light of day filled her with bitter longing. The Nothingness she spent so much of her time in (as if Time was a concept that existed in-between planes of reality) had almost made her forget how luminous her brothers’ creations could be.

Almost.

She set off in a random direction, letting her soul tug her deeper into the unforgiving desert, away from the smoke and ruins.

* * *

Her wanderings brought her nowhere. Or a least, to a _human_ it would be nowhere. The only Nowhere (with a big ‘N’) was in Nothingness (also with a big ‘N’), which happened to be Nowhere, which was in Nothingness…

Okay, she hadn’t set off in a random direction. Nothing was ever random with God’s children, even if they walked the same savage, purposeless Earth as his _other_ children. She could feel their souls pulse even though she was still hours away from her destination.

The human city didn’t hold her interest. If she looked down on Earth as her brothers and sisters did, it would all look the same. On a large scale, humanity and its ilk were so _predictable_ , which is where the similarities between them and angels began and ended.

Just like the Universe, the further back one stood, the more it all looked the same in every direction. Uniform. Perfect.

She did not have the fortune to look down, or to stand back like her siblings.

Technically she didn’t have to literally walk the Earth, but the sand that shifted unsteadily beneath her feet was a reminder that her Father’s divinity lay even here, so far from Heaven. How else could grains of sand reflect her heart as well as they did the sun?

* * *

She reached the gate, wrapping her shawl tighter around her face. Desert travelers wore similar garments to protect against the unforgiving sun and sand, only uncovering their faces in the relative security of the city. But she was no desert traveler. An outsider with alabaster skin, even in a port bustling with ‘exotic’ merchants, would attract attention she didn’t need.

The red-faced guard - _Heti Heti Heti_ \- waved her over.

“S-State your business,” he croaked out, his sweaty fingers absently pulling at his light armor.

“I’m here to sell my wares,” she said easily, doing her best to emulate the Business Voice from all the merchants she’d guided over the years. Heti nodded, glancing at the large bag on her back and pulling a scroll from his belt.

“Where are you from?” he cleared his throat, handing her the scroll. She smoothly offered him a canteen, which he took instinctively. “By order of the council, due to reports of disease, I cannot allow anyone that has recently been west of -”

He stopped, blinked, and then finally looked down at the canteen in his hand.

“You look thirsty,” she murmured, careful to lace her words with concern. “Tired, too. Awfully bold of that council to make you work so hard like this.”

She tugged at the shawl to reveal her face to the confused man. His face flickered through several emotions in the span of a second (as humans were so wont to do) before settling on an undecipherable quirking of the lips.

“It’s an important job,” he replied after a long moment. “Have… we met before?”

“Not officially. My family usually does the talking,” she gestured to the canteen, smoothly drawing his attention away from her half truth. “Please, drink. You’re always hard at work whenever we pass by and today is no exception. It’s the least I can do.”

“Ahh, that explains it. My apologies for not recognizing you earlier, as you know I see a lot of people in my line of work,” he leaned in, a conspiratorial smile on his face. “You’re right though, the council is a piece of work.”

He took a moment to drink from the canteen.

“But it’s important, as I said,” he continued, dragging his knuckles across his mouth to catch any stray droplets. “I can’t have my family getting sick. If it were easy, then no one would die, now would they?”

The angel of Death smiled ruefully. “I suppose not.”

He motioned her to follow and then waved at his partner on the wall to open the gate. The heavy metal groaned as it raised high enough for her to pass.

“Take care,” he said, returning her canteen with an easy smile. “And thanks for the drink. If you or your family are ever in town again, don’t be a stranger. Ask any of the guards at this gate for Heti - that’s me, by the way. What was your name again?”

“We’ll meet again, Heti,” she turned stiffly, adjusting the shawl to hide her face once more. “Very soon.”

* * *

Azrael watched quietly as the sun set over the horizon and wondered why Heaven didn’t have such a sight. There was no day or night in the Silver City, just the holy light of divinity, and so the sun had no purpose there.

But… it was so lovely.

“What’cha thinkin’ about?”

A human child appeared at her side, sitting down next to her on the edge of the port. He swung his legs lazily, the tips of his toes grazing the water’s surface. A strange almost-sound began ringing in her ears as she looked him over.

“Home,” she replied simply, turning away from his toothy grin and bright hazel eyes.

He scooted closer, angling his head as if trying to find what drew her gaze. “What about it?”

She continued watching the waves lapping over each other, waiting for the child to lose interest and leave. Every encounter with a living human was special, while this _boy_ would likely not even remember the stranger sitting alone at the docks. Handling the souls of the recently departed was one thing, but seeing them alive and in motion left her breathless.

Not that she needed to breathe… but _when in Rome_ , as the humans would say.

“You’re still here,” she said quietly. The sun had finally slipped beneath the horizon but the sky hadn’t yet faded to true night. The sound could almost be heard over the waves, but the child didn’t seem to notice.

“Where do you live?” he asked, not even bothering to respond to her frank observation. “You seem familiar! You pass through often, right?”

She considered telling him the truth. The doe-eyed child would take her seriously, as human young tend to do. If he went home to tell his family, they would laugh and chalk it up to imagination. Even he, as he grew older, would shake his head and smile at his childish naivete, or simply forget the moment entirely.

The sound grew louder until it was unmistakable. Her last mission had ended as all her missions did, but she never got used to the cry of souls being parted. If anything, it was more difficult each time. Where did it come from, now? Was it just an echo from all the souls she’d guided over the years?

“I’m the angel of death,” she looked into his eyes. “I do not live anywhere because I will never die.”

Father bless his heart, the boy only looked a little off-put.

“Huh,” he said slowly, drawing out the sound. “Then you’ve met my uncle, right? Mama said he fell down the stairs but Anket said that _her_ mama said he had too much to drink and got in a fight with a guard.”

Azrael focused her eyes on the boy’s soul, tracing his lineage through the countless souls she’d handled to find the man she thought might be his uncle. A quick peek and she found the boy in her arms, giggling as she threw him higher and higher towards the sun. She set the faded memory aside to find the man’s final moments.

“Anket’s mother was only half right,” she focused her eyes back on the solid boy in front of her. His eyebrows shot up and he leaned in, trying to compel her to continue.

She bit her tongue. The dead were long gone, and there was nothing the boy could do about his uncle. Why should she tell him the truth when it’d only cause him pain? Her purpose was to guide souls _after_ their bodies had perished. She had already done that for the boy’s uncle, and from what she could tell, it wasn’t the child’s time yet.

Azrael closed her eyes, breathing in the salty ocean air. It would be peaceful if not for the shining soul next to her, and the knowledge that the port would be overrun once darkness fell. The child ought to go home, but from the uncle’s memories she knew the boy slept odd hours. His mischievous nature often led him to play tricks on unsuspecting neighbors and visiting merchants, and the darkness helped him escape into the night.

She should have ignored the child completely. At the very least, she shouldn’t have spoken so freely. A soul with only a scant few years under its belt had drawn _her_ , a being almost as old as time itself, into its orbit. Her family would turn their nose at this kind of behavior, but most of them had never seen a soul as she had.

Is this why Father had ordered them to love humanity as they loved their Father? Could He not resist their pull either? Their life? Their vibrancy?

Instead of shame, an ancient weariness settled in the well-worn space in her chest. She’d dithered long enough.

“Go home,” she said, raising to her feet, her fingers tugging the hood back over her head.

“Wait!” the boy scrambled after her as she walked away. No, an angel absolutely would _not_ falter at the command of a human child. “Uncle said he had something for me?”

She turned, but only to scan the horizon for incoming ships. The boy just happened to be in the way. His soul drew her eyes and her own heart ached at how still it was, as if it too were holding its breath.

“Underneath your bed is a loose floorboard,” the words were out before she could stop them. “It makes a dreadful noise whenever you shift. Do get it fixed.”

And then she was gone.

* * *

Azrael gazed upon the port from atop the wall she had passed only the day before. It accosted all her senses: her eyes burned from the smoke; her nose scrunched at the smell of burning flesh; her hands covered in dust and caked blood; her ears picked up distant wails of agony.

Her work, for the most part, was done. The attackers had withdrawn as well, taking their spoils and slaves to parts unknown.

It was morning, but the light of day made the devastation seem worse. Bodies were strewn across the cobbled roads slick with blood. Those that had survived the attack either wandered aimlessly between the corpses or searched frantically for water, food, family, bandages, _life._

She joined the search, her weariness blending in seamlessly so that no one batted an eye at the familiar stranger. She’d guided many souls throughout the night, their lives flashing before her eyes as she held them close to her Grace and soared to their final destinations. Each soul was marked by the lives they had lived, and so her own personal judgement meant little.

Azrael mourned for every single soul.

Now, after a night lasting numerous lifetimes, she searched the ruins for what remained. She hadn’t seen the boy from the day before and once again wondered if that was a blessing or a curse.

* * *

She found him half-crushed underneath the smoldering wreckage of his own home. His limbs were twisted and bone jutted through ashen skin. Somehow, his chest kept rising and falling, albeit weakly.

Her eyes found his soul, which pulsed and recoiled from its last terrifying moments of consciousness. He still fought the inevitable.

She closed her eyes, willing her breath to even out. He would have died eventually. She would’ve had a hand in his death whether it were today or some unknown tomorrow. It could be worse.

He could be alone.

But he wasn’t.

Azrael reached for his soul, her fingers grazing his bloodied hair as she coaxed it from his failing body. She could see his beginning and end clearly now. The moments rushed over each other like a wave, all clamoring for her attention, her recognition, her _understanding._ She bore it unflinchingly, her other hand summoning the angel blade from deep within her Grace.

His memories were passing through her faster and faster until finally, too soon, she heard the ominous cracking of wood above her head, hand clutched around her uncle’s last gift, reaching desperately for the door–

The face above her was so familiar. She’d seen him before, but when…? She was afraid of him, but also for him? His weight crushed her but he wasn’t being crushed despite...

The clatter of her blade brought her back to reality. It was the guard from before, Heti, but he was covered in soot, sweat, and blood.

She smacked Heti aside as if he were a bug, desperately reaching for the boy’s receding soul with her Grace, but it was too late. It slipped back into his body, still gleaming after her divine touch.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Heti sputtered from his place on the ground behind her, cradling an arm against his chest. A fresh set of tears followed the already shiny trails on his cheeks. “You… you were going to kill that boy! He might live yet! Why must more die?”

He heaved himself to his feet and used what strength he had left to grip the smoldering timber in one hand. He tried to get it off him. Father, how he tried. Anything for a child that may still have a chance. A future. No matter it not be his own flesh and blood.

The boy’s body laid still.

“Help me!”

Azrael could only stare. She hadn’t severed the connection between his body and soul in time. If she had, they’d both be long gone. He would have gone to Heaven, she’s sure of it. Instead his body was slowly absorbing the remnants of her divine energy. His body was healing.

He wasn’t going to Heaven. He was going to live. The Angel of Death had saved a human life.

Father had never given her explicit instructions but some things shouldn’t have to be said.

Azrael knew the importance of even the smallest, most innocuous of moments, and how they could change the course of a human life. Uriel understood better exactly how it worked, but where he had understanding, she had experience.

This was not even close. She had to do _something,_ but what could she do to make this better? She’d already gone against everything she knew by saving a human life, even if by accident.

“I’m… sorry.”

She fled.

**Author's Note:**

> im still not sure where im going with this story so please feel free to share your thoughts on how it is so far


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